


Fun At The Club

by tsv



Category: The Venture Bros
Genre: M/M, Strippers & Strip Clubs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-21
Updated: 2016-03-21
Packaged: 2018-05-28 04:18:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6314857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsv/pseuds/tsv
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Takes place during the Season 6 finale, except Shore Leave gets to actually take Hank and Dean to a club.</p><p>It just so happens to be a gay strip club.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fun At The Club

**Author's Note:**

> Alternate title: "Dean And Hank Realize They're Probably Bisexual".
> 
> Done for the VB kink meme, which as always needs more love in the form of prompts and fills both, [go check it out here!](http://ladyofdecember.livejournal.com/3205.html) Check out the [second meme](http://vbkinkmeme.livejournal.com/) too, desperately in need of prompts!
> 
> Prompt was "I would love to read a "what-if" scenario about Shore Leave actually getting to take Hank and Dean somewhere fun, as per his original plan in the final episode."

The three of them had been left a bit speechless after Red Death tearing his way through the sky, doomsaying against Dr. Venture. Hank felt reminded, distantly, of the old-school archings they'd been subject to back when they were living at the Compound. For some reason, most of those memories were a bit fuzzy to him now.

"Should we be worried about Dad?" Dean said timidly.

"It's all part of the show, sweetie," said Shore Leave, gently pinching Dean's cheek in a show of affection. "And either way, your father's got a decoy, remember? Let's worry more about what club we're going to."

A light came on in Hank's brain. He'd heard plenty about clubs from TV, now that he was actually allowed to watch it on the regular. But there was one type of club that every young man was interested in above any other.

"Wait, can we go to, like, a strip club?" Hank chattered excitedly.

Shore Leave grinned at him, running a hand through his fake mullet. "Love your enthusiasm, but I don't think you'd want to go to the kind of strip clubs _I'm_ familiar with, babies."

Dean looked nervous, but Hank pressed on, smirking confidently. Obviously, Shore Leave was referring to how adult and cool they were, and he thought Hank wasn't adult and cool enough. Which was obviously _dead wrong_. Hank was absolutely both of those things. "Try me."

The O.S.I. agent gave a hearty chortle, grabbing both of them by the arm. "Oh, alright. You boys are in for some _fun_."

—

The music was loud, shaking the floor with its thrumming bass. The lights were hazy, warm, and only seemed to emphasize the erotic atmosphere. The air smelled faintly of sweat and cologne.

Dean had been no stranger to fictional portrayals of strip clubs, himself. He'd been reluctant to go — something about it felt wrong, like he knew despite his sheltered upbringing that it was taboo. But he'd also been determined to experience new things, and to stop being afraid of what they could mean for him.

However, weren't strip clubs supposed to be full of _girls_ stripping? Not guys? He was _pretty sure_ they weren't supposed to be guys.

And yet, here he was, watching nervously as a man, wearing nothing but an entirely-too-skimpy piece of underwear, slid down a metal pole not ten feet from him. The man's body visibly glistened with beads of sweat, from his muscular thighs to his toned abdomen.

Something about it stirred _feelings_ in him, but he couldn't quite place what those feelings were. He was faintly aware he was staring, but it didn't really register until Shore Leave popped into his peripheral vision, waving his hand.

"Helloooo? Earth to Dean? Having a good time, tiger?" Shore Leave was grinning, holding a drink with salt on the rim.

"I — I don't know," Dean admitted, and became suddenly, acutely aware of the fact that he was blushing. "This is kind of weird. I thought— I thought only girls—"

"Stripped? That rocked my world when I found out too." Shore Leave set a hand on his shoulder in a fatherly way, which was surprisingly comforting. "There's plenty of male strip clubs. You just don't hear about it."

Dean swallowed, looking down at his own drink. Shore Leave had ordered them both something without alcohol in it, much as Hank had begged for the alternative. It tasted kind of fruity.

"Oh, look at your brother," The O.S.I. agent laughed. Dean turned and was shocked to find Hank being straddled by a large man who reminded him of Brock, with clipped blond hair and rippling tan muscles. Hank was beet red and frozen in place — it was rare for his extroverted brother to clam up like that, but he didn't exactly look as if he was minding the attention. "Looks like he's enjoying that lap dance I bought him. You want one too?"

"M-maybe later," Dean sputtered, shrinking into his seat and feeling shy. He kept looking back to the man straddling the pole, with his strong jaw and tousled brown hair. A stab of guilt ran through him as he realized he had been mentally relating the man to Jared, one of his few friends, his study buddy from college. A second stab of guilt as he _also_ realized he was more than a little hard.

Dean tentatively shifted his gaze back to Shore Leave, who was smiling calmly at him. He suddenly felt very transparent, as if the man was seeing right through all of his thoughts.

After a moment to gather his courage, Dean mustered, "Actually, you know what? Yes."

—

It took until almost midnight for them to return to the Venture building. Both of the boys looked somewhere between exhausted and flustered, and Shore Leave felt secretly proud that he'd gotten both of them to question their sexuality in a big way. He'd always gotten a not-so-straight vibe from, quite frankly, the _entire_ Venture family. Maybe he could somehow con their stubborn patriarch into a gay bar, next.

He found half of the men on the roof, both O.S.I. operatives and Guild members, playing a spirited game of water polo. The other half were mingling, some flanking a minibar that Dr. Venture was standing behind, where he also spotted Brock holding a glass of whiskey.

"Looks like you've all been partying without me!" said Shore Leave jovially as he walked over, giving Brock a gentle elbow and a wink. "I guess the operation went off without a hitch?"

"Blue Morpho was a no-show," Brock replied calmly, looking him and the boys up and down with a smirk. "Where the hell've you been?"

"Oh, you know, I just took them out to a club. We had some fun."

"Hopefully you didn't let them _drink_?" Dr. Venture spoke from across the bar with a critical eye, which felt amusingly hypocritical when he was in the middle of jostling a cocktail shaker.

" _Pfft,_ " Shore Leave waved his hand. "Trust me, they're both sober. They were too interested in what was going on _around_ them to care, anyway."

Brock froze in the middle of lifting his drink to his lips as realization gradually dawned on his features, his head slowly turning to stare at Shore Leave with a slightly horrified expression. "...Please tell me you didn't take the boys to a gay strip club."

Shore Leave shrugged weakly, flashing him a sheepish smile.

"I got a lap dance from a guy named Angel!" Hank said excitedly, grinning from ear to ear. Dean's cheeks were red with shame, but he was also smiling.

"Oh dear God," Dr. Venture mumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose. Brock, on the other hand, was smearing his face into his palm.

"Never allowing you to babysit again," Brock grumbled.

Shore Leave just laughed.


End file.
